Heavy Rain
by Vaudvillian
Summary: "I feel more like a bird caught in a draft rather then a girl pushed and pulled by the ocean and I gave up."
1. Hit Hard

My chest burns like fire and my body shakes violently as I convulse, needing something that I couldn't quite remember. Bright lights appear in front of my eyes, flashing and popping like fireworks behind my half closed lids. It's impossible to see anything through the black water, it's like being blind. I panic and I thrash and kick against the current, my jerky movements slowed by the water that surrounds me.

I reach for what I think is the surface, but I'm so disoriented I don't know up from down. For all I know I'm drifting downwards under the depths, never to be seen again. For a brief moment my hand breaks the surface, a small skeletal hand raised with fingers spread wide over the churning dark waters, but only for an instant.

Again, I'm sucked under. Water gushes into my ears and all sound is silenced. For a moment, I don't feel anything, not the sharp pain in my lungs nor the distant pain in my head. I hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing. It's so cold; every part of me feels numb in the freezing water. I open my mouth to let out a scream but there's no air left in my lungs and the sea rushes in. I can taste the salt.

The ocean tosses me again and I am dragged like a rag doll through the rolling waves. The sandy bottom scrapes roughly against my side like sandpaper and instinctively I flinch away from it, but the current drags me along the bottom again. The pain is distant, faint, like a dream you can't escape from. I let myself go limp. I'm so tired. So tired of fighting the death I knew would come. It was no use, the current was much stronger than me; there was no way I could win.

Something dark and shapeless comes at me from the side and slams into me. I feel a crack. I recognize the familiar texture but can't place it. Worn smooth by the sand, twisted knots and bare branches. Everything is groggy and I can't think clearly; my thoughts struggling to find their way through a thick swirling fog.

There is only an instant before the log slams into me again, the entire left side of my head goes numb, my ear stings. Black spots appear in what little vision I have through half closed eyes. Then I can't see anything, and I feel more like a bird caught in a draft rather then a girl pushed and pulled by the ocean and I gave up.

It was warm and wrapped around me, pulling me through the black sea. So was I dead? Was this an angel pulling me toward heaven? There is a rushing sound in my ears that might have been the wind blowing past my face as we flew... My face breaks through the water and the ferocious pain in my lungs returns. How disorienting… hadn't I been drowning? I felt the freezing salt water swirl around me, the ringing is replaced by the roar of the surf and the sound of the water as it crashes against rocky cliffs.

I wanted something, my lungs wanted something, but I couldn't quite remember what. A wave splashed me in the face and I cough instinctively, water streaming from the corners of my mouth. It was then that I remembered.

I had to breathe.

I suck in air too fast and my head spins. More water is coughed up and every time my lungs emit fresh pain. I hear a horrible wheezing noise and cringe, realizing the noise is coming from me. I shudder violently and the arms wrap around me tighter, keeping my body still.

I hurt. Every part of me hurts, even my bones hurt.

There's another noise, something different than the crashing ocean I was now so familiar with. It's low and panicked; the noise is warm, breathed into my ear. It's saying something, there are syllables there that might have formed words, but I'm too tired to care. I'm alive, and for me that's all that matters. Slowly, as if awakening from a deep sleep, my senses turn on one at a time. I can hear. But next I feel.

I move my arms slightly, struggling against the water. One of my hands is holding onto something. Something warm. The ocean falls away and cold air surrounds me, the sound of the surf becomes distant. There's a jostling motion and then smooth movement. The angel has finally pulled me out; I guessed that we must have been flying, but there is no rush of air against my face. No… I'm set down on something… wet, loose, soft…

Sand?

Something pushes down on my chest too hard, one, two, three times. Then something warm presses against my mouth, pushing warm air inside my mouth, into my lungs. The pressure on my chest starts again and the water that's sloshing around inside me is expelled for good.

I cough violently, rolling groggily onto my side as I vomit the remaining saltwater. I don't care about living anymore; it hurts too much all at once everywhere. With every breath I take in it burns against my throat, I vomit water, the stomach acid and salt leaves a horrible taste in my mouth and I spit, trying to get the acrid taste out.

"Hold this against her head to stop the bleeding."

The side of my head feels wet and warm, and I hesitantly lift my fingers to the side of my head but a warm hand pushes my arm away. That wheezing sound has started again and it takes me a moment to remember the noise was coming from me. There is another sound and it matches the way my chest is heaving up and down. I am crying, screaming, wailing. I am cold and wet and hungry and tired and everything, everything hurts.

Naturally, I am upset.

But screaming is wearing me out and hurting my throat so I switch to little gasping sobs instead. I don't know anything but the pain, there is no moment before this, no recollections to grasp onto. No happy thoughts to dull the throbbing behind my ear. There is only cold sea winds and the drizzle of a coastal rain.

"You're ok. It's ok. You're safe now."

"Keep applying pressure."

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

"I saw it in a movie once!"

"Hey, hey… kid, we're going to take you to the hospital, ok?"

"Oh shit, where are her parents? I swear to god-"

Underneath me the ground falls away and I panic, but strong arms hold me tighter. I realize the person who's carrying me isn't wearing a shirt. Who would be crazy enough not to wear a shirt in this abominable cold? My mind becomes foggy again and I struggle to stay awake. I try to lift my arm, but nothing happens, it's like my limbs are made of lead.

"Little girl, hey, what's your name?"

I'm crying too hard to answer. I'm choking and sobbing because this isn't fair, it isn't fair. My head is pounding because there is a railroad tie being driven into my skull. There's so much pain and I'm scared. I'm so tired, the only thing I seem to be able to do is cry.

The struggle against the water seemed to have drained all my energy. A warm sort of fluff fills my head up until I feel lightheaded and warm. It's raining sideways and the metal house filled with angels. The voices garble and fade out.


	2. Jane Doe

I lay still for a few moments, keeping my eyes closed and listened to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Its proof that I'm still alive and I take a few seconds to revel in it. I survived. I didn't drown. I made it. That steady, slow, beep-beeping is proof of this.

I open my eyes and am greeted by a dimly lit hospital room. Its dark, the lights have been turned off but the moonlight that filters in through the shade slats gives me just enough light to see my shadowy surroundings. I turned my head to the left, the other bed was unoccupied; sheets folded neatly at the foot of the bed. The slats of the window shade are crooked as if somebody had been looking out.

But just because the neighboring bed was empty didn't necessarily mean that there wasn't anyone else in the room.

Groaning softly, I roll over and away from the light. I freeze mid-way through the movement. There's a boy in here. A huge, lanky, messy haired boy. His hair is long and soft looking, and I have the insane urge to touch it; he's stretched out in one of those cheap plastic chairs you see in waiting rooms at the doctor's office. I wonder how he can sleep in that position, sprawled out with his mouth hanging slightly open. Like a little kid, the way they can lay down and take a nap anywhere.

Something tickles my cheek and I reach toward the source with a pale hand. It's hair, blond hair. Curly and gold. But is it really mine? Do I even have blond hair? I bite the inside of my cheek nervously, trying to remember, but can't.

A black feeling of panic wells up inside my chest and threatens to overtake me but I push it down and tried to think. Why couldn't I remember? I scrunched my eyes closed and thought harder, what did I look like? What did my parents look like? Did I know who this boy was? Was he a friend? A relative? He was familiar… somehow… I thought harder, digging though my memories. But I have none; all I can remember is the sea. Churning, cold and black.

My chest feels tight and the beeping on the heart monitor speeds up to match my breathing. I feel like I'm suffocating. My chest is too tight, my ribs too small and I tear at the weird plastic thing taped to the back of my hand. I kick at the blankets, I couldn't think, I couldn't… I couldn't! I desperately gasp the air in and out and out but my lungs still feel suffocated. It hurts. My throat is raw and burning.

Someone is screaming.

There is shouting and hands are holding me. Holding me down. I slump, tired from the fight, I lay there, limp with exhaustion. I'm still shaking though, and there's wetness on my face. I cry harder and harder, each sob burning out through my lungs. _Everything_ hurts in this place. I don't want to be here, I don't, I don't!

"You're ok, you're ok." The words are repeated over and over again, but they don't mean anything to me. I'm not ok, I hurt, I don't know where I am and I'm _scared_. Frightened out of my mind. Frightened _of_ my mind.

My fingers feel kind of tingly.

"Sedative!"

"Shhh, you're ok. Everything's ok. You're safe, you're safe."

I slump, my mind suddenly seems sluggish and I lay motionless, tears streaming down my face. There are hands on me. My hair has come loose and someone is pulling it out of my face. It feels nice, it's nostalgic somehow, but I couldn't place it. I could breathe now at least, in and out, slowly I calm down.

"What's going on?"

I open my eyes. The sleepy boy is doing something with my hair and then holds my hand. I _must _know him somehow. Why else would he be doing this for me? Perhaps he's my brother? A close friend or relative? There are two nurses and one is re-taping the plastic thing to my hand, I can see it's poked somehow through my skin. It makes me sick and I look away. Someone is standing in the doorway, a doctor I think. Doctors always wore coats didn't they? White coats and stethoscopes. There must be some sort of Doctor handbook. The light from the hallway is flooding into the room from behind him. The boy let's go of my hand and retreats back to his chair, he looks angry; glaring at the doctor. He doesn't like him, I can tell. Not one bit.

The doctor takes the boys earlier spot, holding up my eyelid with his ice cold fingers and shining a pen light in my eyes.

"Pupils dilated." He looked up at the monitor, "Heart rate elevated… lowering. Too fast. How many milligrams did you give her?"

I was no longer paying attention to anything he was saying. I was too busy staring at his face. There was only one word to describe it… perfect. He looked too young to be a doctor, the nurses looked older than him, but he seemed to know what he was talking about… or he was really good at faking it. Light honey colored eyes and a square jaw. His nostrils were flared though, was he angry at the nurses? I decided to jump back into the conversation, only just managing to tear myself from his face. But the conversation had apparently ended because he was turning his face back towards mine.

He was very nice looking.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Cullen. Do you understand what I'm saying? Do you know where you are?" He looked so serious I couldn't help but be just a _little_ frightened.

I nodded nervously, entranced again by his face, "Hospital." I rasped, then cringed at the roughness of my voice. It sounded like I had a cold. This wasn't what I thought my voice sounded like. It was small, hi-pitched but raspy. I fidgeted a little; there was one question that I just _knew_ he was going to ask. And I dreaded it, because I had no idea how to answer. The boy had asked me before, on the beach.

It had scared me.

"Can you tell me your name? Who you are?"

I blanched. There it was. "Who I am?" I repeated hesitantly, looking at the corner of the blanket. "I- er, I don't…"

"You don't want to tell? It's ok if you don't want to. But we have a strict patient confidentiality policy, if anyone is-"

"No!" I tried to shout, frustrated; but it came out as a pitiful squeak. "I don't… know. I don't know…" I trailed off; I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence. I didn't want to say it out loud. That would make it too real, too frightening.

His eyebrows rose and his perfect face took on an expression of surprise, "You don't know who you are?"

"No, no-not really. I can't remember." I confessed quietly. I hated the way everyone was looking at me now, like I was some sort of freak. "I don't even know what Hospital this is, or what day it is, or-or anything."

"You're in Fork's, in the County Hospital here. And it's October the second and only forty degree's out. Not the best time of year to go swimming." He winked. I frowned, was he trying to be funny? If he was trying to get me to laugh it wasn't working, in that moment, I decided that I was going to be difficult. I set my jaw and tried to stare him down. There was something in his honey eyes, calculating, and thinking. It was suspicious.

"Nancy, will you go get Officer Swan from downstairs?" Both of the nurses left the room together, as soon as they were in the hall I heard whispers. It irked me. Dr. Perfect untangled my IV from around my arm.

"You don't remember anything? Anything at all?"

The boy was watching from his perch on the plastic chair, he was tense looking and sat on the very edge, looking just as interested as the nurses did. Why was he _here_? _With me_? He looked… angry. Our eyes met and his expression softened a little, but he still sat in that spring loaded position, fingers laced together under his chin.

I furrowed my brow and thought. "I remember… the ocean, it was so dark. And it was cold, very cold. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't find the surface, and uh, my head hurt…" My hand reached up towards the now dull throbbing behind my left ear.

"You hit your head very hard, and damaged the hippocampus." He suddenly went very serious, his face impassive as he started to explain. "I believe that you have post-traumatic amnesia from your head injury, it means you're probably going to have a hard time remembering things. At this point it seems like your memory loss could be very mild or very severe, unfortunately, we won't know until some time goes by. You may remember everything, or you may remember nothing at all- Be careful with your head there, we had to stitch you up a little behind your ear."

Throughout his speech I was so busy deciphering the information that I didn't notice a police officer into the room. He was easily six foot, with a small beer belly and dark curly hair that was thinning a bit. He seemed just as confused as everyone else.

"Officer Swan, this is our Jane Doe." He said, introducing the Policeman to me. "Officer Swan is going to ask you a few questions, and then someone is going to come in and take your picture. Since you're obviously a minor, we have to get your picture and information out to the media and state so that your guardians can identify you. A social worker will come in tomorrow and ask you some more questions. Do you understand?"

"Wait, don't you have _some_ way of identifying me? Fingerprints or something?" My voice hurt from so much talking, but I was desperate that there might be some way…

"No, unless your fingerprints or a blood sample is already in the computer database, we won't know until somebody comes to claim you. We can look through missing persons reports, but our best bet is to let people know. The more people know, the greater chance that someone will step forward."

I lay motionless on the bed, but inside my mind was struggling to understand. But what if no one came to claim me? Left, forgotten in this Hospital until I died? Would I always be known as Jane Doe? Would they put that on my tombstone?

The next thing I knew the doctor had left the room and the boy sprang forward to the bed, sitting next to me. He was even bigger up close, a giant. Giant hands, giant feet, and really intimidating looking muscles. His movements were awkward though, as if he wasn't used to this body. He had that lanky look of someone who had grown a lot in just a short space of time. He looked kind of stressed out, his expression dark and serious.

"Hey, Paul!" Officer Swan acknowledged with a smile when he noticed the boy and clapped him on the back. "Crazy day today, huh? Good work though, it's good to know I can always rely on you and those friends of yours."

The boy called Paul laughed weakly. "Yeah, who ever heard of a mermaid drowning?"

"Mermaid?" I asked, completely confused now.

Paul looked embarrassed. "Oh, I got you out. I mean, nobody knew what you were at first. Didn't know what was going on because we didn't know you were a kid. But then we realized it was a girl off of St. James in the water drowning. So uh, I got you out." He flushed, looking embarrassed, as red bloomed under russet skin.

I blushed as well, remembering somebody pushing down on my chest and blowing air into my mouth… that somebody was _him_. He's saved me… because he'd given me CPR. "And the mermaid?" I asked curiously, not forgetting his unusual comment.

"Oh!" he grinned, "That was you. When we didn't know what you were, well, we saw the blonde of your hair and joked that it was a mermaid, thought our eyes were playing tricks on us, and then I saw your hand and realized that you were drowning."

"Oh…"

"Hey kid. I'm Charlie." The officer said, dragging up another one of the hospital's plastic chairs and taking out a pencil and a notepad. I had a feeling he wasn't going to be writing much down, I knew just as much about myself as he did.

"Hi." I said quietly, startled by his friendliness after such serious atmosphere. He was really nice… probably had kids of his own or something. Maybe he had dogs, puppies. Puppies made people kind of paternal like this, right? I think I'd read that somewhere before, heard it somewhere before. Something like that. I could tell he cared though, I could see it in his eyes, the way that they kind of softened.

"So you don't remember anything at all, sweetie? Not your name, how old you are?" He did look really concerned.

"How old do I look?" I asked curiously. I suddenly wanted a mirror. I wanted to know what I looked like. I didn't remember; it was weird feeling, feeling so… new. So blank... I had blond hair, I knew that much, and it was curly and long, maybe even down to my waist? I couldn't tell lying down. I looked down at the mess of blankets, kicked down in a heap near the foot of the bed, one blanket curled around my leg like a snake. My hospital gown was too big, down just below my knees. There were little pink and purple elephants prancing about the fabric. But my legs were thin and pale, covered in scrapes and scratches.

Charlie looked shocked. He sat back in the chair, putting his hands on his knees and stared at me, "You really don't know do you?"

I shook my head, "No." I was really thirsty now, even after swallowing all that seawater my tongue felt parched. "I only remember when I was drowning." I concentrated, "And some sirens, I think. And lights passing over my head."

He nodded. "That was in the Emergency room. I got a call at the Station from the Hospital saying they found an unidentified minor. A Jane Doe."

"Why _do_ they call me that? That isn't my name, right?"

"When they don't know someone's identity they just call them Jane or John Doe. It's been standard procedure for a long time to do that. There's another officer on the way, he's bringing the camera so we can take your picture. We also need to take your stats, height, weight, and distinguishing features. Like what you were wearing, eye color, things like that. Then we'll send it to the media and your guardian's will be able to find you."

"But- but what if you can't find anyone?" My hands twisted around each other in anxiety as my mind was suddenly filled with the possibility that I was all alone.

"That won't happen." He reassured, "Everything's going to be alright now, kiddo."

He gave me a sympathetic look and a nurse with brown hair walked into the room. "Hi, sweetie. I'm Nancy, I'm going to be taking some of your stats." I nodded tiredly. I could barely move my head I was so exhausted. I felt like I'd never slept in my life and that my lack of sleep was catching up with me. That stuff they had injected me with had made my mind foggy and hot.

"Can you stand up?"

I moved my legs carefully, I wasn't used to being myself. It was weird to have to gain back my equilibrium. Both my legs were hanging over the side of the bed and slowly, I slid off. As soon as my feet touched the cold tiled floor my legs buckled under me. The boy named 'Paul' caught me before I collided with the floor.

"I'll get a wheelchair." Nancy said worriedly, rushing into the hallway.

"Sorry, sorry…" I muttered as Paul scooped me up easily. This was... This was _familiar_. Being held up by him. "Hey hey." I said, tugging at his shirt and trying to break his attention from his expectant gaze on the doorway.

"What?"

"Do I _know_ you?" I asked curiously, "I do know you, right?"

I must have said it funny because he let loose a roaring laugh. I glared at him and he faded out awkwardly. "Sorry, I just got you out of the water. I don't know you any more than anyone else. Sorry, I guess that's not really helpful or anything, huh?"

I didn't say anything. I looked down and away from him at the floor. I blinked hurriedly and frowned. I wouldn't cry. I'm not allowed to cry.

My head perked up. Not allowed to cry? That was… strange. Nobody _here_ had told me that. I was sure of it. Was it something I was remembering? Or not? I kept my mouth shut and glanced up at Paul, who held out his arms expectedly.

With the help of Paul, I settled into the chair and began rolling down the hall, clasping his huge warm hand tightly in my own.


	3. Nocturnal

"Let's see… four foot, four foot six." Nancy said, looking closely at the black printed numbers. Paul was holding me up, his hands on my sides as I wobbled on unsteady feet. Nancy clicked her pen and scribbled the numbers down on my clipboard.

"Oh," I said disappointedly, "That's short." I glanced up at Paul's menacing frame and frowning, how did he ever come to be so big?

"Well, after we take your weight and take a look at your teeth and bone growth, we can determine about how old you are. That'll be something right?"

"I guess so…" I didn't really care about how old I was, what I really wanted to know was my name.

Paul helped me over to the scale. And set me down on it, putting his hands under my arms to steady me. It took a moment before my weight was declared.

"Seventy-three pounds…" Nancy trailed off. "No, that can't be right. Let's try that again." Jake held me up again while she fiddled with the scales.

"Ok, it should be accurate now. We're not used to weighing children on this one." She said, looking at me to the scales, "Seventy-two? No…"

I was weighed two more times, and each time it was lower. But the next few times the needle stayed on seventy.

Nancy scrawled down a seventy on my newly issued medical chart.

"Wow," I commented, tilting my head back to look up at Paul, who was over six foot and massive. I figured he must weigh quite a bit. "I'm pretty little huh?"

"Yeah, kid." Paul looked a little strange, his eyes fixed to the numbers on the scale. "You're _tiny_."

The next few hours were spent doing tests, check-ups. It was embarrassing to be seen in all my naked glory in front of two doctors and three nurses, including Dr. Cullen, who surveyed me like I was some kind of science experiment. Although there was nothing to see, I still felt ashamed. I felt too exposed and it made anxious. I was secretly glad that Paul had politely excused himself when it came to me getting undressed; all these doctors and nurses were enough.

After all the tests they brought me back to my room and brought up a tray of food and a big bottle of water. I couldn't eat more than a few bites. After I had eaten nearly half of my applesauce I began to feel sick. Luckily, Paul was there. So when I offered it to him, he ate the rest of it. It was funny to watch him eat; he looked as if he hadn't seen food for days.

Paul was good company, telling silly jokes and complex stories and describing where he lived. He'd wrinkle his nose every now and then, sometimes complaining about the smell. He said it smelled bad, too sweet, like burning sugar or boiling maple syrup. I wasn't sure that I knew what he meant. I couldn't remember ever smelling those things before. I disagreed with him; I thought it smelled quite nice. But then again, it might have been a joke. He'd told me lots already, although I didn't get most of them and then he would have to explain. I reasoned that it was probably some kind of joke that I just didn't get. It was alright, though. I didn't mind. Even if he was sometimes strange, I enjoyed him being with me.

Finally the police officer Mr. Swan mentioned earlier showed up with a black, chunky looking camera to take my picture.

"Sorry," He apologized, "Couldn't find the damn thing. Been years since I used it last…"

I was sat down in a hospital chair against a wall. The policeman, Officer Davies, raised the camera up to his eyes. There was a flash and a loud whirring sound and a square of black and white paper slid out. I'd never seen a camera quite like it before, it had to be folded up and out in order to take the picture, and the picture slid out as soon as you pressed the button.

"See, you can watch it develop." He said, pointing to the black block that was gradually getting lighter. I watched as my own face slowly came into focus. I had long curly blond hair. The kind of yellow that matched the hospital blankets, a large gauze bandage wrapped around my head where I had hit it underwater. My eyes were light grey and tired looking, with black circles under my eyes. My nose was kind of normal looking, I guessed, kind of narrow and pointed. My mouth was colorless and small. Skin was pale, shoulders bony. Compared to everyone else, I didn't look healthy, I didn't look _alive_.

"Oh!" I gave a little gasp of horror. "I look awful."

Officer Davies gave me a sympathetic look, "You'll look better once you've had more to eat and some rest." He eyed my stick figure limbs and gave a little grimace when he thought I wasn't looking.

I nodded dumbly. I didn't look _that_ bad, did I? My appearance was so alien looking. I didn't feel like myself. It was strange, as if I were looking at a picture of a stranger.

I lay there in my hospital bed, my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep and listening to the Doctors talking in room across the hallway. Paul, after seeing that I had apparently fallen asleep, left to go talk to his friends and hadn't come back yet. It had been nearly an hour, and I began to figure that he'd gone home. I felt badly that I'd kept him for so long, but also selfish. I wanted him to stay here with me. He was the only one that I really knew besides Nancy.

"No baby teeth, her molars are just beginning to grow in. Based on the dental check, and I'm no orthodontist, but I'd place her age at around thirteen, maybe fourteen. But her height and weight are that of an eight or nine year old."

"Under malnourished, no menstruation, no apparent growth at all." I recognized Dr. Cullen's voice here, he sounded terse, angry. I shrunk a little under the piles of blankets, I hoped that I hadn't done anything to make him mad; after all, he'd been so nice to me… I rolled over towards the door in order to hear better watching as shadows crossed the light let in from the hall.

"A diet of only seven hundred calories a day?"

"That, or less." Dr. Cullen sighed.

"We'll need to run more tests later today. Get her to talk to a psychologist. We still don't know how much she's suffered mentally from this kind of neglect."

There were voices I didn't recognize now, chiming into the conversation. I wondered if they were the Doctors from earlier and I huffed quietly to myself. I wanted to know what they were saying. A pale hand reached through the doorway and I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I heard the door click lightly shut. The voices were muffled now and I could barely make out the rest of the conversation, only a jumbled sentence here or there.

"Maybe some aptitude tests to see where..."

"Her social worker is coming later on, right? Two is when we're having the meeting?"

"You'll be gone then, won't you, Carlisle?"

"Yes, but I've left my notes on your desk for you to reference. Everything should be there, I've left my written opinions in there as well-"

"What has this kid been…"

"Those La Push boys are really something, aren't they?"

The conversation drifted down the hallway and out of earshot. I was kind of wondering what it was I'd been through myself. If it was something as bad they made it sound, I'm glad I didn't remember. I turned over again, restless, to face the window and looked toward the window, it was almost day time now. It made me wonder what the boys had been doing on the beach in the middle of the night and how they could have seen me out there in the black. The darkness was nearly gone from the sky. Dim morning light peeked in from behind the plastic slats. I brought the blankets up over my head, snuggling deeper into my warm bed.

The sun was beginning to come up, it was almost morning.

And morning meant going to sleep.


	4. Crayons

I awoke later on to the gentle pattering of rain and gasping for breath. I was terrified, completely and utterly terrified, but for reasons that I couldn't explain. I took a moment to learn how to breath again and then closed my eyes to remember the dream.

I couldn't remember much, just quick, vivid images. A small, wooden house in the middle of the forest. All the windows covered up by thick looking black curtains. A room with a tarnished cast-iron bed, the walls covered with colorful drawings and black and white pictures; taped up crooked and messily taken. Books and books filled with slanted black writing. Muddy, lace up boots lined up under a window. Red eyes. Long blond hair tied back in a ponytail.

I opened my eyes and gave an angry sigh. None of anything I remembered made any sense. It felt nostalgic, I knew it was a memory, it was so familiar that I _had_ to have seen it somewhere before. I just couldn't remember. Just brief images that didn't make much sense. I gave up on the dream and looked up at the window from where my head still rested on the pillow.

My nose was itchy. I reached up to scratch it and then pulled the blankets tighter around me.

The blinds had been opened and my limited view from the bed afforded me a look at my surroundings. Evergreen tips tickled the bland, grey sky. I watched raindrops race each other down the window, silently cheering for my favorites as they merged together and dribbled down the glass.

I remembered this too. Something familiar, although slightly different. The drops dribbled straight down the window instead of horizontally. The background of the trees through the window didn't slide to the left as it usually did. I frowned in confusion. I couldn't remember. I couldn't remember what that _meant. _

It was increasingly frustrating, to get these little tidbits and slices of information and then not be able to put them together to form a coherent memory. Just pieces of different puzzles, which, no matter how hard you tried, would never be able to fit together. I coughed a bit and rubbed at my eyes.

I watched the rain for a while longer, drops racing each other down the pane. The sky was a blustery, darkened gray. It became obvious that the stormy weather wasn't going to cease anytime soon and eventually, I became bored of my game and rolled over.

His appearance didn't _startle_ me, per se, as I was half expecting Paul to be sitting there. But I wasn't expecting to see somebody entirely new. His face seemed familiar somehow; perhaps it was the eyes, the same golden brown color… I reasoned that he was Dr. Perfect's son. Although they looked different as far as physical attributes, they shared the same symmetry. That odd, too perfect look that they seemed to have in common. The eyes were the same color, that unnaturally bright shade of brown, taupe? No… Some sort of bright mineral hidden away in some dark cave… though I couldn't remember the name of it. Another item to add to the list of forgotten things.

"Hello." He said pleasantly after a few awkward minutes, raising an eyebrow.

I realized that I had been staring at him for the past minute or so and quickly softened my expression. I wasn't very good at this whole 'first impressions' thing.

"Hello." I offered in return, sitting and using the plastic headboard to prop myself up. "Er, Aren't you-"

"Dr. Cullen's son?" He laughed and it sounded nice. "Yes, I am, I'm Edward. He's in surgery right now, but he asked me to give you these and sit with you for a while." He pointed to the brightly colored objects at the foot of the bed.

"Oh!" I gasped excitedly and leaning forward to retrieve them, "Crayons and Paper! Thank you! I was thinking that I was going to get bored…"

"I'm sure you would have found ways to entertain yourself." Edward said, giving an amused looking little smile. "My mother, Esme, likes to draw. She thought that maybe you do too."

"Yes," I thought for a moment, "I think that I _do_ like to draw. I'm not really sure. I have a lot of things that I have to remember. If I do or don't like certain things, you know." I said conversationally as I shook the crayons from the box and into my lap, reaching forward for a piece of construction paper as I continued. "I like apple sauce and warm blankets that the nurses bring from the incubator and… uh, coloring too…" I muttered tiredly, I rubbed at my eyes again and looked to Edward. Every time I looked at him I felt like there was something very familiar about him. But I couldn't quite place it. The name was foreign to me, I wasn't under the impression that I'd ever heard it before. But still… that _face_… "Um, would you like to color with me?"

He smiled again and I decided that I liked him best when he was smiling. "Of course." He reached to the chair beside him and withdrew a couple of pencils from his bag. "I have pencils too, if you'd like them."

"Oh, yes, thank you." I set to work with my drawing, since I couldn't remember much, I stuck with what I _could_ remember. I drew a wheelchair, Mr. Swan and Paul and Nancy and Dr. Cullen. On the top of my portrait of Dr. Cullen, it was hard to get his face just right. It wasn't quite as symmetrical as his looked; one eye seemed just a bit lower than the other, his nose too wide. I settled for what I'd drawn, not entirely sure I'd be able to do as good of a job if I started on a second one. I wrote a thank you for the gifts along the top.

Edward looked up from his sketch of my IV drip with interest. "That's pretty good. What did you write along there?"

I handed my paper to show it to him, "Look, I drew Dr. Cullen and then I wrote a thank you note. I can't really sign it, but I think he'll know that it's me."

"Your cursive is very good." He complimented and then after a slight pause asked, "Do you have any ideas as to what your name might be?"

"No," I sighed, "I don't even know where to begin! I thought for a moment that it might be 'Jane', but really it just what everybody was calling me. It does sound kind of familiar though, but it's not my actual name. At least, I don't think so. It doesn't sound right."

He sat very still, his face vaguely thoughtful as he seemed to ponder over this information. I looked at him curiously, a pink crayon still clutched between my fingers. Something clicked in my mind. This was familiar too! The stillness, the being able to be so solid, so statuesque… I knew this. But how infuriating! How frustrating with all these hints and glimmers but no solid ideas!

I hated this. I frowned and set the crayon amongst the others on my blanket.

"I'm sorry." he apologized, his face sincere, "I didn't mean to vex you. I only meant to keep you company until my Father arrived to work. We don't have to talk about 'who' or 'what' right now if you find it difficult."

"No.. I just…" My head snapped up from my gaze on the crayons, "How do you mean? How did you know I was mad?"

He shrugged. The movement seemed odd, rehearsed. "I'm good at reading people. I've always been good at being able to tell what they're thinking."

I nodded suspiciously. "Is that why you came today?" I questioned, "Why Dr. Cullen asked you to sit with me? 'Cause you're good at that?"

"In a way." He gave a small smile, "Mainly I just wanted an excuse to draw with crayons again." He held up the drawing he'd been working on, blue on yellow construction paper. "Look, it's you."

His distraction worked.

"Wow! That's so good! How did you learn how to draw like that? I can draw faces, but I always have trouble with the mouths. Lips always give me so much trouble…"

We drew for a while longer. Stopping only when my meal was brought in and he insisted we needn't waste any more paper lest I need it when I was bored. He was nice, odd, but nice. But shockingly familiar, often I would catch myself staring at him, marveling at some unknown similarity. Not necessarily his looks, although he was very pretty, but this _stillness_. Sometimes he sat so rigid, so unmoving. His chest neither rising nor falling with such an unnatural hardness, I began to worry that his heart wasn't beating and if I should call for the nurse, my hand starting for the button on the side of my bed.

But, of course, as soon as the thought passed through my mind, there was an exhale and I forgot all about it. Reasoning that perhaps he had gotten so focused in his drawing that he'd forgotten to breathe. That happened to me sometimes, I'd get so anxious, waiting for something, a crash, a clatter, and forget to take a breath. The remainder of his visit was filled with sudden reminders and nostalgia that felt for certain that I knew him from somewhere. Had never met him, but had seen him before at some unknown point in time.

When the sky began to darken with night two hours after his arrival, Edward stood up to leave. Almost as if on cue, his Father entered the room.

"Hold on, I'll be back to see you in a few minutes." Dr. Cullen said to me, subtly motioning to Edward to follow him. I nodded and sank back into my pillow, burrowing a little under my warm blankets. Nancy had just brought me another when she saw how easily I got cold, it was my favourite thing to switch out my current blanket and pile on a clean, dry and best of all, _hot_, fresh blanket from the incubator.

Although they were Father and Son, the differences between them were remarkable. Dr. Cullen seemed easy going, yet professional. His movements seemed more natural, there was less of that stillness, he kept himself busy. Twirling a pen between his fingers, glancing at the charts or at the machines or at my IV drip.

Edward was different, more stiff, very proper, never shifting his weight and rarely fidgeting. Although Dr. Cullen was polite, Edward took it up a notch. His language was strange, but that was alright, it comforted me, reminded me of my own strange phrasing. Numerous times when the nurses came to check on me, I'd talk with them, say something and then be given a strange look, asked what it was I meant. That kind of thing. But once Edward got into something he liked, like drawing, he was easy to talk to. He was a good teacher too, I was much better at drawing faces than I had been earlier. He said next time he would teach me shading.

After a while, when it was time for him to head home, I was sad to let him go. I kept trying to prolong the goodbye. Wait, I need another hug! Wait, I didn't show you this drawing from earlier! Wait, look and see what my bed can do! It was fun having him around, and I was upset to lose him like I did Paul. I had more tests to take and more doctors to talk to, but I didn't want to do any of that stupid stuff. I wanted to sit and color and talk with Edward.

"This is the last hug." He warned, his things were already put away and ready to go, except I wasn't ready to let him. He moved to stand but my fingers were laced together around his neck and he lifted me a little ways from the bed. I laughed at him. "Come on now, let go." He replied sternly, and removed me easily.

I'd learned about hugs earlier from Nancy, she'd given one to me before she had left to go home last night. It was something people did when they didn't want to leave each other. I figured, in this case, that was a pretty apt description.

"Listen," He started, sitting down on the side of the bed, "I know you're bored and lonely here all by yourself, but you have something to do now. I'll be back eventually, and you know my father will be in once he's done with his other duties, alright? You don't need to worry. I'm not just going to leave you forever."

"Ok, ok."

"Alright then." He gathered up his bag and jacket so quickly that I wasn't sure that he'd already done it earlier and I just hadn't noticed. One second his bag was there, and the next he had it over his shoulders, his hands in his pockets. "Goodbye, Jane Doe."

I made a face. "Bye."

I pouted for a few minutes after, disappointed at the loss of another playmate. But it wasn't even half an hour later that Dr. Cullen and Dr. Watson came in to make me take more tests with a stern looking lady who always had her mouth drawn up in a pinched up line. Like she was always displeased or was always smelling something awful. Dr. Cullen called her Dianna, my social worker. She made me read aloud from a sheet to see how many words I could read in a minute, made me take three different tests on history, math, and science where I filled in a bubble sheet with a thin black pencil. The latter two I wasn't even able to finish, they were so difficult to understand. I was supposed to find out how I did tomorrow, when she came back again.

Paul didn't come back and I was sad. Edward was all well and good, but I did miss Paul something awful. After all, they were the only friends I had.

Lying in bed I stretched my legs up towards the ceiling and let them fall back to the bed with a soft sort of thump. It was terribly boring. I didn't want to use my crayons and paper without Edward. It seemed sacrilegious to leave him out of the fun. There was a bible on the wooden stand next to my bed. I flipped through it and read what I could. It sounded very familiar to me, which made me frustrated again.

Dr. Cullen came in as I was glaring down at Leviticus.

"Do you like reading that?" He asked curiously.

"I've read it before." I said, shrugging, as I closed the book with a snap and set it beside me on the bed.

He raised his eyebrows at me.

"Well, I mean!" Flustered in my attempt to explain. "It's familiar, you know. It's just- it just makes me mad. I feel like I know things but I don't know from where. I know I've read the Bible, I know I've heard it, but I don't know when or where- oh! I made you something!" I looked around the bed, found his card, and handed it to him. It was kind of nice to be so small in such a big bed, there was lots of room to put things and they were almost always within my reach.

"It's very good." He said, the corners of his mouth turning up. "I'll have to show it to Esme." Dr. Cullen paused, "Speaking of my wife, she said she'd like to come and visit. She was thinking about coming tomorrow. Would that be alright with you? "

"Yes!" I answered immediately. I decided that I loved having visitors. Anything to break up the monotony of the day. Or rather, evening. I had slept the daylight away, awaking just before four to the arrival of Edward. Now I was wide awake again. I wondered if I would even be awake for her visit. I would have to work on that.

"Oh! Doctor Cullen?"

"Yes?"

"I've been meaning to ask you, what's that thing?" I asked, pointing towards the shiny black thing mounted on the wall. "I thought it was for the hospital, like these ones for my arm and heart and things, but it never makes any noise or anything." My heart monitor used to annoy me, as did the drip of my IV, but I had gotten used to both of them.

Carlisle looked confused, "You mean the television?"


End file.
